When the Walls Come Tumbling Down
by eirian2
Summary: Romance/Adventure/Hurt. Rated T for future chapters. Sherlock and Molly's unrequited love and re-appearance of another character in later chapters. Sorry...terrible at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

*None of this is Mine, it all belongs to ACD and the wonderful Stephen Moffatt and Mark Gatiss...I worship at their altar*

Sherlock swept into the Morgue with his usual flourish, black coat sweeping out behind him like some later day crusader. That's how Molly liked to imagine him, sometimes, when he wasn't being a total arse to her. She could imagine him riding into battle on a huge black horse, burnished armour glinting dully in the cloud of her sorrow as he left to fight far off wars. She sighed and wished that just once and for all she could get over this stupid crush she had on the most disagreeable, socially ignorant, rude, prickly, handsome, brilliant creature who was currently parading round her morgue as if he owned the place. She caught John's eye and sighed as he raised his eyebrow. Oh wasn't that just great, Sherlock was going to be in one of those moods today when he would humiliate her just for fun and just because he could.

"M...morning, Sherlock, John" she mentally kicked herself at stuttering at the first word she spoke.

"Molly, I'll need access to the freshest cadaver you have" he looked at her "this week Molly, would be appreciated." He tapped his foot idly.

"Ummm, you can't have it." Molly blushed furiously as she refused him.

"What?" Sherlock sounded confused then outraged "Molly, don't be childish, I NEED a body for an experiment and you always let me..."

Molly cut him off "There's only one body in at the moment, and it's not mine to...well...give away." She shrugged, wishing the ground would swallow her up.

Sherlock took a step towards her and Molly immediate took a reciprocating step backwards. "Molly" he spoke to her as if she was a mentally retarded child "All the bodies in this morgue are yours Molly, it's what you do. You are MY pathologist..." he was looming over her now, his blue eyes glittering with something that Molly didn't want to identify too closely as she assumed that if she did it would pre-empt a vicious rant from Sherlock that would ruin her day if not her week.

John stepped towards Sherlock "Molly, what's up?"

Before Molly could answer the door behind them hit the wall with a more resounding thud than anything Sherlock could manage. Sherlock and John both turned on the spot leaving a gap for Molly to see through.

"Ummmm, Sherlock, this is the reason you can't have the b...body, it belongs...to...to our new Pathologist... " Molly tailed off into silence.

Sherlock spun back towards Molly "You didn't say there was going to be additional members of staff here at Bart's. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sherlock" John sighed "It's not Molly's job to advise you of changes of staff at Bart's. It's not Molly's job to let you in here, she does it to help you Sherlock, please remember that. It's called a favour and it's done because people want to help and not because they have too. Ok?"

Sherlock just looked with pity at John, then the corner of his mouth twitched and John sighed again. "I do apologise Molly, are you going to introduce us?" Sherlock flicked on his 100 watt smile and strode towards the woman walking between the cabinets and the autopsy tables. She was struggling with two paper cups of coffee, a large leather satchel over her shoulder and what appeared to be a paper bag with slices of toast carried between her teeth. She wasn't looking where she was going and nearly barrelled straight into Sherlock but caught sight of him just in time and neatly side-stepped him before dumping the coffee on the table and dropping the bag of toast from her lips.

"I grabbed some coffee Moll, better that the crap you make here." She stood up and dropped the leather bag on the desk next to the coffee and proceeded to remove a scarf and a leather biking jacket revealing black jeans, biker boots and a battered "Fields of the Nephilim" t shirt that had seen better days. She stood up to her full height, which Sherlock took to be exactly 11 inches shorter than him.

_Welsh...recently single...was a Goth...no pets...rides a motorcycle...has no visible tattoos but probably has them...multiple piercings on ears indicate other body piercings...hungover...just moved to London...that's enough to be going on with. _His smile was slightly vulpine.

"Ah yes, Sherlock, John this is the new Pathologist here, Dr Caroline Vaughan...Caroline, this is Sherlock Holmes...and John Watson...Dr John Watson is...hmmm... his..." Molly struggled for the right word "colleague."

John, polite as ever held out his hand to shake, which Caroline took. Sherlock remained examining her closely.

Caroline raised her eyes until they locked with Sherlock's "Are you always this rude, or is it a special occasion?" she snapped, almost waspishly and John wondered if she was actually related to the Holmes brothers.

Molly just stood there open mouthed. How could anyone be so cool round Sherlock? So blasé. So unaffected by the phenomenal genius that was standing in front of them. She wished with all her pure little heart that she could stand up to Sherlock like that, just once.

Molly squeaked a little as she spoke "Sherlock is...has...access to the Labs and the Morgue, and to cadavers...ummm...through his brother and well...I help...a bit" she rung her hands pathetically. John's heart went out to her.

Caroline sat down on a chair and proceeded to remove the lid from the coffee while simultaneously ignoring Sherlock and John "Coffee Molly...don't let it go cold, Starbucks is a total rip off but I needed it this morning" she pushed the cup towards Molly.

Sherlock did not like being ignored. Ever. Being dismissed so abruptly was certainly not in his game plan for that morning. He walked towards the door as if he was going to leave but then swung round, giving maximum impact to his stature and clothing.

Molly could see what was coming but could do nothing to stop it.

"Using caffeine to prevent your incipient hangover is not the best method. I would suggest that a suitable analgesic with a litre of water would be more effective. Using red wine to block out memories you would rather forget especially during the working week can precipitate a regular reliance on alcohol to get through the day."

Ice blue eyes met another pair of ice blue eyes.

"Really, you don't say?" Caroline folded her arms across her chest and John couldn't help but notice her rather impressive bust, something he doubted Sherlock had even registered. "If I want to drink Starbucks crap rather than a suitable analgesic" she waggled her fingers at that point "I'll bloody well do so, sunshine."

John stifled a grin; not even Mycroft spoke like this to Sherlock; this could be interesting. For once someone was standing up to him.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply. But she carried on. "I would suggest that you refrain from commenting on other people's addictions and weaknesses until you are sure that you are free from all of yours. When you stop smoking, then I might listen to your comments on my drinking." She was mimicking his speech pattern now.

Sherlock sat down abruptly "How did you know?"

"About the smoking? I can smell it a mile off...it's loathsome."

Molly stood to the side of the desk, sipping her coffee; afraid to sit down in case it upset Sherlock,

"Molly, coffee black two sugars and a tea for John" Sherlock sat down on Molly's chair as Molly made to move towards their little kitchen.

"Don't you bloody dare, Molly. No wonder you need another Pathologist in here, if you spend all your day running round after this pain in the arse. Mr Holmes, was it? I suggest that if you want a coffee you purchase it from the vending machine in the foyer when you leave the building."

"I need a body." Sherlock leant forward and frowned at this annoying argumentative creature. He could see John was finding this amusing.

"You need a personality first. And there's only one body in the morgue and it's MINE...not Terry's; not YOURS...mine. Savvy? So you might as well toddle off and do whatever else it is you do to annoy people on a daily basis. Because you aren't going to wind me round your little figure like you do with Molly, here."

Sherlock then made the fatal mistake of picking up Molly's piece of toast.

John had thought that Sherlock's reactions were fast but what happened next was like a viper strike.

From nowhere the riding crop that Sherlock had left in the morgue countless times was in her hand and she'd wacked it over the back of his hand making him yelp with pain and drop the toast, butter down on the desk. Sherlock shot up in his chair like a meerkat popping out of its warren, the look of startled surprise was hilarious.

"That's Molly's. .." she flicked the whip again menacingly at each word.

Sherlock looked at her with utter disbelief. _This wasn't happening...couldn't be happening...this was his domain...well not his per se but certainly when Molly was in charge it was his and now this...this...abomination...appeared to rule the roost and didn't appear to be in any rush to allow him access. _He was even more put out when she started to giggle "I think I'll have to rename you Gordon." She looked at him speculatively.

John managed to speak "Gordon? Why Gordon?" he was desperately trying not to laugh at the priceless look on Sherlock's face.

"Haven't you seen the meerkat's? Hang on." She pulled the keyboard towards her and 'googled' meerkat manor and then 'Gordon' what appeared was a picture of a meerkat poking its head out of a burrow. John spluttered. "There's a video too." She pressed the play button and a loop of a meerkat that looked remarkably like Sherlock and his movement from a few moments ago appeared. Within seconds John was helpless, tears pouring down his face.

"Oh my god, just wait until Lestrade see's this" John was busy texting Lestrade with the URL. "this is priceless" he wiped his eyes and began giggling again.

Throughout all of this Sherlock sat stock still; utter fury on his face..._how dare she...she humiliate me. _He closed his eyes briefly then snapped them open. She was watching him, a smirk on her face so reminiscent of The Woman that he briefly considered whether or not it was Irene Adler in yet another of her disguises. But no, she was dead. Moriarty had seen to that and he'd seen proof definitive the second time.

Molly knew what was coming when he narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Your partner left you because you refused to have a child, he rightly assumed that you were having an affair with a colleague at the hospital you worked at in Cardiff. You have family money that has allowed you to move immediately to London. You ride a motorbike but you were recently knocked off it and are currently using public transport to travel to work. You use your natural attributes to get gullible men and some women to do what you want, your breasts have already been assessed as almost perfect by John. You dress as you do to remind you of when you where happiest, I would suggest medical school and despite the volume of black and leather you are wearing you are far more feminine that Molly who insists on wearing ridiculously childish clothing. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?"

Molly and John held their collective breaths. Molly because she'd already seen Caroline explode with fury when some clot driving a taxi had hit her off her bike and John because he was willing to bet a month's salary that this red head would not take this lying down.

"Oh, that's the game is it? Pick people to pieces and watch them squirm. Fine, I may not be what was it you called him Molly, an Insulting Detective?"

"N...no...a Co...consulting Detective." Molly went purple with embarrassment.

"Consulting, sorry...close enough first time though. But even I can tee that you are an over privileged public school educated arse possibly from very minor aristocracy. You have no need to work so there's family money with the obvious connections that come with that background. You don't think about your clothes but you buy the best that Saville Row can offer. You are highly educated but only in academic matters as your social manners are abysmal and severely lacking. You have few family and friends, not that I blame them, and from your quips about my figure and using it. I would suggest that you do exactly the same which is why Molly gets into such a state every time you walk through the door. You can 'act' the part of a charming handsome man but I would think that it's only something you can do for brief periods of time, it being such a challenge to be so out of your comfort zone. Obviously single as no sane male or female would put up with you." She leant back in her chair and sipped her coffee watching the fury blaze in Sherlock's eyes.

A slow handclap could be heard from the door. "I do believe that you might have a rival, dear brother. A rival Consulting Detective, and I would think that with her natural 'talents' would probably get just as far if not further than you, Sherlock. And of course, she is a Pathologist; she doesn't need a 'pet' Pathologist to sneak cadavers to 221B Baker Street." Mycroft walked towards the group, extending his hand to Caroline "Mycroft Holmes, I see you have already had the dubious pleasure of meeting my younger brother. I do hope he wasn't his usual charming self."

"Mr Holmes" she nodded "I presume that the petulant outburst was indeed his usual self but I can assure you that anything you brother thinks he can dish out, I am more than capable of dealing with. But you must excuse me, I" she put a huge amount of emphasis on the 'I' "I have an autopsy to perform." And with that she picked up her lab coat and walked out of the office.

"Well, that went well" John pocketed his phone after reading Lestrade's hysterical text in response to John's. "Shall we Sherlock? I think we might have outstayed our welcome this morning." He stood "See you Molly." He started to walk towards the door "Sherlock?"

"I need a body, Mycroft, Molly...just ." Sherlock swept past John and let the door slam behind him.

"As I said. That went well. Did you want to see Sherlock, Mycroft?" John stopped with his hand on the door handle.

"No, I think I'll have a chat with the charming Dr Vaughan." Mycroft turned and followed Caroline into the Morgue.

John was standing on the pavement outside Bart's when he suddenly wondered just how had Mycroft known Caroline's surname. He sighed it was probably better he didn't know.

"John, If you don't move we'll lose this taxi" Sherlock had flagged down a taxi. He threw himself across the seat and gazed out of the window ignoring John's attempt at conversation.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"John, If you don't move we'll lose this taxi" Sherlock had flagged down a taxi. He threw himself across the seat and gazed out of the window ignoring John's attempt at conversation.

TBC

John tried to keep a straight face as the taxi pulled away from Bart's; in all his 18 months as Sherlock's side kick he had never seen anyone speak to Sherlock like that; yes, there was Donovan's sarcastic snipes at him but this had been a very precise clinical assessment of Sherlock; worthy of the great man himself. And John surmised, the great man didn't like it one little bit. His phone bleeped and he clicked on the message. It was from Lestrade.

YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS GL *download attached pic*

John hit download and the image appeared slowly on the screen. Someone in Scotland Yard obviously had more time on their hands than crimes to solve because the attachment was an image of a meerkat wearing a deerstalker. John bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing. He looked across at Sherlock who was currently lost in his own little logical world and despite finding the image funny John did have some misgivings about laughing at his friend. Sherlock and humour really didn't go in the same sentence, actually, John thought Sherlock and humour weren't even passing acquaintances. When Sherlock was funny it was usually unintentional and he didn't like the idea of him being the butt of Scotland Yard's latest attempt at humour. He went to hit the delete button, wishing he'd not told Lestrade about the video. He hoped it wouldn't come back to bite him on the arse in the future. John took a final glance at the picture and hit the button and despite himself...he grinned.

"You can stop smirking, John. The episode wasn't _that_ amusing." Sherlock gazed steadily out of the other window; he tapped his chin idly blocking out John's words..._there was something about her, something that was tantalisingly out of reach at the moment. He would get it; he just needed silence to work through all the possibilities. Was she one of Moriarty's network? Was she Moriarty's Molly? _He sat up abruptly. _I know her...I know her...I just don't know HOW? _What he needed now was to be at 221B Baker Street and close the world out and just go to his mind palace. Just how far he would have to travel those rooms to find out who this woman was, he didn't know. But he knew he would find the answer there. He slid back into the here and now to hear the end of John's comments on his behaviour.

"... just don't go there Sherlock. It's not her fault that you don't like her and that she's 'invaded' your morgue. Just try and go there when she's not there. I'm sure Molly will let you know when it's safe."

"Safe...SAFE!" Sherlock slouched back in the seat "If I want to use the morgue I will. I won't let some...some...Celtic throwback hinder my research."

"Not if this morning's palaver is anything to go by, you won't." John turned and looked to see where they were heading "Sherlock, why do you have to wind up every single person you meet? It's not good. Is it some chemical imbalance? A defect in the Holmes gene? Mycroft isn't as bad as you, but even he has his moments." John thought back to his 'kidnapping' by Mycroft on the day he moved into 221B Baker Street "I mean this new Doctor could have been useful, she's certainly sharp and observant."

"John, yet again your brain is fogged by the outward show of a pleasing physical appearance. She would never allow me to remove body parts, nor perform the experiments that Molly allows me to undertake."

"Ah, you mean she can't be manipulated like Molly so therefore she's of no use to you? That's very nice Sherlock. Do you only like people you can use? No don't answer that, I already know the answer to that is a resounding yes." John turned his body away from Sherlock and watched the passing traffic.

Silence invaded the taxi as both men descended into their own thoughts.

Sherlock on just how he could remove the new pathologist from Bart's without resorting to underhand tactics..._get Mycroft to check her Medical Licence and Pathology credentials. Find past colleagues at Cardiff, if that's where she actually was. No she was there, I was right she IS a medic, but why Bart's and why now? Find out about her divorce and past...this divorce is too convenient, was it planned? _He needed to get back to 221B Baker Street, the information he sought was available at a price if you knew who to ask. But at least there was something he could do now. He pulled his phone from his coat.

MYCROFT. ALL DEATILS OF MEDICAL LICENCES HELD BY C VAUGHAN. ASAP. SH

He slid his phone back into his pocket and resumed his ruminating.

John on just how calculating Sherlock actually was.

John let his mind wander back to the conversation in the lab and one of Sherlock's comments in particular... '_You use your natural attributes to get gullible men and some women to do what you want, your breasts have already been assessed as almost perfect by John...despite the volume of black and leather you are wearing you are far more feminine than Molly who insists on wearing ridiculously childish clothing...'_ So John wasn't the only one who had noted the new pathologist's physical appearance. Sherlock had also noticed but his barbed comments had been negated by the confirmation that he found her far more feminine than Molly. The more John thought about that comment the more he was confused. If it was an insult it wasn't up to Sherlock's usual standard and if it was meant as a compliment, which he highly doubted...it was certainly backhanded.

"What did you mean by...?"

Sherlock cut him off "John if you couldn't deduce what I meant at the time, then I hardly think me filling you in with the relevant data now will assist you in any way." Sherlock pulled on his leather gloves.

"No, I mean...you noticed something about her, didn't you? Something that's bugging the shit out of you, because you can't figure out what it is."

Sherlock looked at John with a look on his face that could have almost been respect. "At least your observational skills are improving."

"So I'm right aren't I? Something about her is worrying you?"

"I wouldn't say worrying, but there's certainly something about her arrival at Bart's that doesn't fit. I'm sure Molly knew nothing about her new colleague's arrival until she was introduced. Molly is incapable of keeping any information away from me and I would have noticed it anyway. That she didn't proves she didn't know anything. Which begs the question, why? Why has this woman turned up at Bart's now?"

"You think she's something to do with Moriarty?"

"I have no idea. It would seem to be the logical explanation."

"Or she just really could be the new pathologist in Bart's, just like you deduced when you saw her."

"No, that was too easy, she almost gave it away. That she would give that much up so easily means she's hiding something very important."

"Is she? You got all that from the fact that you found her too easy read her?"

Sherlock looked annoyed "Yes, didn't I say that?"

"Well I wouldn't say that she gave up that information. Every other person would have just accepted that she was the new pathologist and left it at that. Although even I could get that she was Welsh." John smirked. _And that you noticed she had a figure...maybe you are human after all. _

"I'm not everyone else." He stopped "Welsh...that's it! I'm sure she's not Welsh...she's been in Wales and picked up the accent but..." the rest of his comment was lost to John as the taxi pulled up outside 221B Baker Street and Sherlock disappeared through the door without a backward glance, leaving John to pay the fare.

John sighed...sometimes Sherlock was just a total dick. End of.

XXXXX

Mycroft followed Caroline into the morgue and stood by the door as she removed a body from the cabinet. He already had his own suspicions about the woman...he wasn't sure if Sherlock's abrupt departure was down to a fit of childish pique or whether he was already on to something.

"Dr Vaughan" Mycroft moved slightly then recoiled as she unzipped the remains of a car crash victim. He removed a linen handkerchief from his pocket and held it delicately to his nose. "May I call you Caroline?" _So that's the name you are using...very...you._

Caroline turned to look at him "Why? Are you going to be just as annoying as your baby brother?"

"I certainly hope not, I think you might be of some assistance to me." He raised an eyebrow at her questioning glance. _Let's just stop playing games shall we? _

"And just how do you envisage me being of assistance to you?" _Been there, done that...not doing it again._

Mycroft remained silent for a moment before continuing "How shall I put it, certain authorities would be more than grateful for your assistance." He smiled.

"I'm busy, as you can see..." She indicated the cadaver on the table in front of her. "What assistance would you require?" it wouldn't hurt to know just exactly what Mycroft wanted.

"You've met my brother, he can be a little...how shall I say, indelicate when dealing with other people's feelings. Especially Dr Hooper's, which is why she behaves as she does in front of him. He encourages her long term infatuation with him for his own ends. And this is not always in the best interests of...well let's say...more important people."

"So what is it that you want me to do?" she tapped the scalpel against the palm of her hand.

"Prevent some of the more...interesting aspects of his experiments here from taking place. I have no issue with him using the facilities for legitimate purposes but some of his more outrageous experiment have to stop." Mycroft moved towards her. "Try and prevent Dr Hooper from continuing to be the worshipping satellite that revolves around the sun that is Sherlock." _Even I cannot believe my dear brother does not know the earth goes round the sun..._ he shuddered. "Unfortunately, John Watson is not the stabilising influence on my brother that I had hoped he would be. Just the opposite in fact, positively encourages the worst of his behaviour. I need someone to rein him in before he does something both he and I will regret." _And you are the only person to be able to bring him into line, my dear. Why else are you here?_

"And just how do you expect me to do that? From what I can gather, Molly gives him carte blanche here to do what he wants; A newcomer will hardly be able to stop him." She placed the scalpel down next to the body. "From what you've told me he will already be memorising my shift pattern to enable him to avoid me at all costs."

Mycroft smiled "I have my ways, and I can assure you that your assistance will not go unrewarded."

"I don't do things for money Mr Holmes" ice blues eyes glittered at him fiercely.

"Really?" Mycroft gazed back into eyes he clearly recognised "I thought that's all you did." He turned and walked away, letting the morgue door swing closed behind him.

Caroline watched his retreating back and wondered if she really had made a mistake this time. _But Sherlock was unfinished business and that just would not do._

XXXX

Molly sat at her desk and nibbled at the corner of her toast; she would have happily allowed Sherlock to have it if he'd wanted it...and her coffee. But the new pathologist clearly had other ideas and Molly had a sinking feeling in her stomach that things wouldn't be the same around here again.

In a way Molly was thrilled that someone had actually stood up for her; that someone had shouted down Sherlock Holmes and made him stop. But on the other hand, she liked helping him...Sherlock's Little Helper...and the thought that the special link they had might be compromised upset her slightly...no not slightly...it upset her a lot. She was Sherlock's pathologist...he'd called her 'my pathologist' that showed he felt something for her, even if it was only in a professional capacity.

She spun in her chair; watching the conversation between Mycroft and Caroline come intermittently into view while in her head she replayed the conversation between Sherlock and Caroline. She stopped her chair suddenly when she remembered Sherlock's words...'_ you are far more feminine than Molly who insists on wearing ridiculously childish clothing...' _Oh God, what if Sherlock fancied her? Did he? How could she find out? The only woman Sherlock had ever remotely been interested in had been The Woman, as he'd called her. Was this another like her, who would challenge Sherlock, just as John had told her The Woman had. John had actually said that she'd beaten him. But Molly could not envisage Sherlock being bested by anyone, certainly not a woman.

But now that little worm of doubt had entered Molly's she couldn't stop thinking about it. An image of Sherlock kissing Caroline flooded Molly's mind and she whimpered softly. She knew that he would never think of her in that way, but the fact that he had felt that way before about someone and might do again, filled her with pain and regret. Regret that she couldn't move on. Despite kicking herself for doing what she was about to do, Molly pulled out her phone and typed rapidly and hit the send button before she could change her mind.

John was still on the pavement outside 221B Baker Street when his phone beeped.

"DO YOU THINK SH FANCIES THE NEW PATHOLOGIST? MH"

John frowned before replying "JUST WONDERING THAT MYSELF! JW"

Molly's phone beeped, she pressed the button and read John's reply. _Bugger...why did I have to ask... _

TBC

Thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed this story. I have a vague idea where it will go...eventually. I will try to update regularly but real life does have an annoying habit of interfering.


	3. Chapter 3

**Usual disclaimers: I own nothing...I just worship at the altar of Moffat and Gatiss and ACD. **

**Thanks for all the reviews , they are greatly appreciated and apologies for the delay in this chapter...life got in the way.**

**Chapter 3**

**Molly's in the Lab Office**

Molly slid her phone into the pocket of her lab coat and sighed. She really wished that she'd not sent John a text asking that question, and she really really wished that John's reply had not been what it was. The idea that Sherlock would suddenly start find women interesting made her stomach lurch. Molly still clearly remembered _that_ Christmas Eve when Sherlock had identified _that_ woman..._not by her face. _That night still haunted her. _Who was 'that woman'...how did she know Sherlock...how did HE know her? _Still, thought Molly, ever the optimist, if Sherlock was interested in the new pathologist, then at least he indicated that he wasn't...totally married to his work But with Sherlock you could never be sure.

She sighed again and pulled a stack of files towards her, she might as well clear some paperwork while there was a lull in the daily routine of the morgue and the likelihood of Sherlock coming back anytime soon was minimal after his recent encounter with Caroline. She opened the first file and began copying her findings into the official report. Slowly she lost herself in the tedium of the work and her internal monologue relating to Sherlock slipped into her subconscious.

The clock slowly edged towards coffee time.

Molly worked her way methodically through the files until only one remained and that would need to be completed by Caroline when she finished her current autopsy, Molly slid the file over to Caroline's side of the desk and stood, enjoying the crack of her spine as she stretched. _Coffee that's what I need..._Just as she reached for her bag under the desk, her phone beeped.

It was John.

R U FREE FOR COFFEE? JW

Molly stared at the message. Hadn't John gone back to 221b with Sherlock? Her fingers tapped a reply.

NOW? MH

IF POSSIBLE, YES... JW

Molly frowned, unless she was reading far too much into this, it seemed as if John was concerned about something. Something he didn't want to discuss with Sherlock.

ON MY WAY, MEET ME AT THE CAFE ON THE CORNER. MH

THANKS JW.

Molly slid the phone into her handbag and slipped off her lab coat, just as Caroline emerged from the cold room. Before she could speak, Molly blurted out "Sorry...have to nip out for five minutes...won't be long. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"

Caroline looked over as she threw her latex gloves into the bin. "I'm fine, thanks. Don't rush back I've got the paperwork to complete so I'll cover the office."

Molly smiled her thanks and turned and left the morgue.

**John is on the pavement outside 221b**

John was still on the pavement outside 221B Baker Street when his phone beeped.

"DO YOU THINK SH IS INTERESTED THE NEW PATHOLOGIST? MH"

John frowned before replying "JUST WONDERING THAT MYSELF! JW" _but not in the same way you are Molly._

John replied to Molly's text and slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned...

He watched Sherlock's retreating back and frowned. He really was a total arse at times. What had Sherlock seen or imagined he'd seen in this new pathologist. Maybe after all that had happened with Moriarty, he'd become paranoid to the point of delusion? But even John couldn't begin to acknowledge Sherlock as delusional.

Pain in the arse...Dick... Genius... _yep that's him...but not delusional...bugger, that means he's on to something._

John was used to being a man of action, after all he had been one of Her Majesty's serving soldiers, been awarded medals in her name, been injured in the line of duty. He had thought he would never regain the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers; never again feel that rush of adrenalin in battle. He had been lost in a world that didn't know danger. Until he'd met Sherlock, and despite his regular tirades against his less socially acceptable behaviour, he acknowledged that Sherlock had saved him and shown him that however wild and improbable his theories were, 99% of the time they were right, apart from the one thing he always missed. But John pondered; it was a good thing that the remaining 1% never seemed to be critical.

John followed Sherlock into 221b and into the flat they shared. Sherlock was already hunched over his laptop, pecking away furiously at the keys while simultaneously reading a text message.

"John! Tea for me"

John glanced at Sherlock with exasperation and then into the kitchen, groaning at the state of the kitchen table and the various stains that were covering its surface. Looking at the rest of the room, John shuddered, it looked like a student digs...of the less reputable variety, not the abode of an ex-army doctor and an upper-class consulting detective (world's only). The mug shelf was empty and one glance in the sink showed John that they were all currently lying unwashed in the sink. He had refused to wash them up, yelling at Sherlock that Mrs Hudson wasn't their landlady and he _DOCTOR_ John Watson wasn't Sherlock's servant. And that he would leave the dishes there until Sherlock saw fit to wash them. That had been four days ago and now there were more dishes balancing precariously in the sink.

John turned and looked at his flatmate "not happening Sherlock" he sat back down and opened the newspaper, studiously ignoring Sherlock.

"John, please will you make me a cup of tea?" Sherlock put on his most wounded voice.

"No" John refused to play up to Sherlock's moments of petulance.

"Why?" Sherlock sounded surprised "I asked you with more than my usual politeness. And yet you still refuse. Why?"

"Not working Sherlock. Not Happening" John continued to hide his smirk behind the newspaper. The next thing he knew was the paper being roughly pushed aside.

"Why. Won't. You. Make. Tea"

"Fine, Mr "I have the biggest brain in the Universe" What did I say on Saturday?" John looked at Sherlock's blank expression with growing annoyance. "The kitchen, Sherlock?"

"What about the kitchen?" Sherlock glanced towards it "It's still there, John, including a kettle and if I'm not mistaken there are tea bags in the cupboard since you went shopping on Wednesday and stocked up." He stood, his height dominating the seated John.

"Using your height won't work Sherlock. I am not making the tea. And unless you want to use one of your chemical beakers to make you _own _tea, I suggest you do as I asked on Saturday and wash the bloody dishes." John folded his arms and refused to look up at Sherlock.

"I don't to _dishes" _Sherlock spat out the last word.

"And I'm not doing them again. I am not your skivvy Sherlock, I am your flatmate. Although on occasions I also feel like your bloody keeper. But I am not doing them, so if you want a cup of tea, Sherlock you'll have to get your hands wet."

Sherlock sat down opposite John and steepled his fingers under his chin. John realised he was giving as much thought to the troublesome dishes in the sink as he would to a crime scene. After a few moments he spoke.

"I suppose asking Mrs Hudson for assistance would be not good?"

"No Sherlock, not good...do the bloody dishes yourself you bloody diva." He stood up and reached for his jacket.

"John, I am not a diva..." the rest of his response was masked by John's reply mutter sotto voce..._yes you bloody well are._..as he left the flat.

John closed the door of 221b and decided that Sherlock would certainly not be washing the dishes anytime soon and would probably be wandering lonely as a cloud through his mind palace and wouldn't miss him at all until he realised that he still hadn't had a cup of tea. Which John realised could be as soon as the next five minutes or as late as tomorrow afternoon.

As he turned and walked back towards Gloucester Place, he grinned. Living with Sherlock despite his thoroughly annoying demeanour, was never boring. Even if the great man got things wrong occasionally. A thought from earlier suddenly struck him...what if one day that 1% would be critical. _Shit, now I have that to worry about too. _John decided that he was greatly in need of a coffee and someone sane and an inhabitant of planet earth to talk to. _Molly..._

He pulled out his phone, hoping to catch Molly.

R U FREE FOR COFFEE? JW

He waited, hoping for a quick reply, he wasn't disappointed.

NOW? MH

IF POSSIBLE, YES... JW

ON MY WAY, MEET ME AT THE CAFE ON THE CORNER. MH

THANKS JW.


End file.
